


all that is earth

by novembersmith



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: D/s overtones, F/M, Femdom, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot, Porn with Feelings, Scent Kink, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novembersmith/pseuds/novembersmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jupiter’s trying not to take it personally, but being inexplicably flinched away from is getting really, really old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all that is earth

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the C.S. Lewis poem. Extreme thanks to kuwdora and mooging, who reassured me this porn effort was worth posting, and ALL MY LOVE to my FANTASTIC beta regonym, who coaxed me and this story along, and made it infinitely better with all of her input. All remaining errors are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> Re: tags, if there's anything else you want included, please let me know!

He’s doing it again. Jupiter’s trying not to take it personally, but being inexplicably flinched away from is getting really, really old.

She hunches in Caine’s jacket - the theater had been cold, and she’d only shivered once before Caine had his jacket off and offered to her wordlessly.

She’s still wrapped up in it like a little kid, the giant shoulders of his coat covering her. Even if this date _is_ awkward, at least she’s got that, his scent in her nose, familiar and comforting, a reminder of a simpler time. Which, okay, is a little fucked up, but still. 

It smells warm, and musky—not in that gross way that dudes sometimes have, just kind of spicy sweet. Like a manly chai tea. She doesn’t usually have the greatest sense of smell, the years of cleaner fluids having kind of napalmed her nose, but she had spent a lot of time curled around Caine’s body for a while there, her nose in his neck, fighting to stay calm. It’s kind of weird and awesomely intimate to have that scent wrapped around her now, on the serene sidewalk, in the midst not of pants-wetting terror, but nervous date-mode. It smells safe.

And frankly, it’s kind of hot. She likes how he smells, she likes smelling like him. She _likes_ him.

Then Caine’s doing it _again_ , leaning in tantalizingly close, then jerking back, and _wait_. Oh my god.

“Oh my god, you’re _smelling_ me!” Jupiter realizes out loud in shock, screeching to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. Caine backs away so fast you’d have thought she’d thwapped him on the nose with rolled newspaper. 

“Sorry,” he says stiffly, head up, staring straight ahead.

“No, it’s not—I don’t _mind_ —it’s just…”

He still doesn’t look at her, shoulders just slightly hunched. 

Fuck.

“I just thought—” she explains, wincing and closing her eyes. “Look this whole night you’ve been, like. Coming in for a kiss, and then suddenly changing your mind? For unknown reasons?” Like maybe reasons involving re-thinking this whole dating-the-Earth-way, which comes complete with awkward conversation over dinner and mistiming the whole opening the door thing so that she maybe walked into it, and then the movie they saw was _awful_ , full of condescending heroes and damsels in distress and cruelty to animals.

Those reasons.

It’d been kind of devastating, turning her face up for a kiss and then bupkis. Nothing. Nyet.

“But turns out you were just sniffing me,” she continues, maybe ridiculously relieved. “That’s fine. That’s cool! I mean, I’m well-showered, I don’t, um. Smell like Clorox, right?” Caine, whose shoulders have relaxed a little, has one of those really cute little not-quite-a-smile quirks to his mouth. Jupiter loves those. Like, crap, a lot. He shakes his head, very slightly, and she beams back at him. “Right! Good. Sniff away, soldier.”

It’s just, it’s a little weird doing normal things with him. She can’t help being nervous. _This_ is Jupiter’s life, mundane and silly and full of small bleach-related moments and dumb misunderstandings, and what if Caine doesn’t want that? What if he wants a Queen, and realizes Jupiter is more… just _herself_ , than anything regal or royal?

But now Caine’s tilted his head and his smile has somehow grown without actually getting any bigger, so maybe Jupiter’s not fucking up this date thing as much as she historically has fucked up date things.

“You worried I didn’t still want to kiss you,” Caine states incredulously after a long while, apparently having considered the evidence from every angle and drawn a, well, not an _inaccurate_ conclusion. But he’s smiling with his whole mouth, now. It’s kind of devastating. He looks good. Really good, even with the slightly silly beanie he’s wearing to hide his ears. He crowds a little closer to her on the sidewalk, then, after looking around with the air of a military commander assessing the situation, takes her hand in his, fingers carefully wrapping around hers.

“Your majesty need not trouble herself over that, at least,” he says, and yeah, he’s definitely amused, grinning down at her wide enough to show all his teeth, which Jupiter has kind of gathered he’s a little ashamed of.

Jupiter has to hold herself back from maybe kind of kissing the snot out of him in public and licking said teeth thoroughly.

“Well, you kept pulling away!” she protests, feeling her cheeks flush. “I figured I smelled, or had something in my teeth, or something. But then, uh. I guess you weren’t coming in to kiss me? All those times?” Just to _smell_ her, with his nose just barely nudging her hair, or against the curve of her jawline, his breath ghosting against her neck then gone. That’s—she’d totally wanted a kiss, but she’s not opposed to the idea that he _likes_ her scent, that maybe he can’t resist breathing her in over and over.

He leans in and does just that, right now, not stealthy at all anymore, just nuzzling in just under her ear and breathing in, making a low rumble in his throat that has her knees going kind of weak.

“No,” he says against her skin, and oh no, oh _hell_ , that’s really nice, and then he pulls her in towards his chest. “I thought,” he murmurs as their noses touch and breaths mingle. “Kisses came after the date.”

“Kisses can come whenever,” Jupiter informs him, a little giddy with the idea that he’d apparently done _date research_.

“Good to know,” he says gravely, while his eyes are anything but. “You’re the expert, Your Majesty.”

“Official decree, you may kiss me upon your discretion, whenever you wish,” she says in her best – aka not very – imperious voice. He makes that rumbling sound again, the one that makes her nipples tighten instinctively and her mouth go dry while other things just, generally, get wet.

The rumbling intensifies.

“Wherever I wish?” His voice is like gravel. Sexy, scotch-soaked gravel, and his eyes are locked on hers, his thumb sliding just under the hem of her shirt and stroking a hipbone. He lifts her hand and kisses the back of it, courtly, one eyebrow raised. Then the tip of a finger, then the center of her palm, and she didn’t even know that was an erogenous zone until he’s tongued it.

“Uh,” Jupiter says blankly, and then a wet mouth closes on the throb of her pulse in her wrist, with the barest prick of teeth, and _Caine’s_ the one who moans. “Caine,” she says thickly, shocked at how suddenly they’d shifted from awkward date cuteness to this, in the middle of the street.

“Jupiter,” Caine replies hoarsely. He slides the jacket off her shoulders, just a bit, kisses her bare shoulder, trails open sloppy kisses up her collarbone. He seems to have forgotten entirely that they’re on a sidewalk, in her neighborhood, where one of her family members is probably going to walk by at any second, having been alerted by Mrs. Vecchio on the corner of _goings-on_.

He reaches her neck and his tongue comes out, hot and sloppy, with a scrape of teeth, and fuck, oh _fuck_.

“Whoa, okay, so maybe not wherever,” she manages to say before she just climbs him like a tree, and then modifies when he freezes uncertainly. “No, no, I mean, put your mouth wher _ever_ you want, oh my god, but maybe not, like, while we’re outside? In front of people. Keep it PG outside.”

He visibly discards asking about the P and G thing. “Right,” he says, and picks her up. “Inside. Got it.” He hesitates. “I heard – I was told, third dates?”

He’d asked, oh god, who had he asked? And could she even stand that he cared enough to ask, to find out, to try – fuck. No, she could not. Bam, stick a fork in her, she was done.

“Caine,” Jupiter says, meeting his eyes from within the bracket of his warm, perfect arms. “I think we’ve kind of transcended the third date rule.” He blinks at her, long and slow. “You dove into a hurricane for me. Anyway, you’ve, uh. Already seen beneath my paper hospital gown. I think the mystery is gone.”

He kisses her again, toe-curling deep and wet and a little bit sharp.

“No,” he says, firmly. “It’s not.”

And damn, but those space rollerskate jetboots come in handy.

***

Caine’s hideaway has gotten marginally more livable since she last saw it, with less of a nest of ratty blankets and more an actual bed, which is great considering that he immediately, gently, drops her on it.

Less great is the way he backs off immediately, sitting on his ankles and staring at her.

Not that she minds being looked at the way a starving wolf looks at a particularly juicy filet mignon, but she’d rather he do it _closer_. In biting range.

“Caine, is this okay?” Jupiter asks, all of the pent up worry exploding out of her suddenly. “Am I—is this inappropriate? Like in a bad way, with you as my guard?”

His hungry look is eclipsed with bafflement (the slightest lift of eyebrow), and great, Jupiter is ten for ten on making dates an awkward disaster but she can’t help but ask.

“I mean, if I’m your queen and your, um, employer? I didn’t—I didn’t read through all of the protocol besides the stuff on kidnapping, it was a rush job, but I _will_ , and. I don’t want to take advantage of you. You know you don’t have to, right? I know I came on kind of, um. Forceful, before, but—”

His eyes are saying too much and not enough – it’s intense, and confusing. She can read him, most of the time, but sometimes he’s just so, well. Alien. Caine closes his eyes and shakes his head, and his hands are tight on his own thighs, pressing hard into the space-leather, or whatever it is.

“I kind of need you to use your words here,” she says helplessly.

“Jupiter,” he says, and she loves how he says her name almost more than how he says her title. Either one so intimate, and personal. Like it’s not a planet or a title at all, but something just between the two of them, that no one else will ever understand or share. “I don’t have to. I want you. Not because of what you are. Because of who you are. You’re you.”

It’s a lot more words than she’d expected. Her eyes are maybe blurring a bit. “A cleaning lady from Earth?”

“Jupiter Jones,” he says, on his knees and staring up at her. He crawls forward slowly, never breaking eye contact, and her breath catches. “My queen.”

He stares at her a moment, breathing heavily, before he visibly composes himself. Which is kind of awesome - it makes her feel powerful, and _hot_. Then suddenly he bends, kissing her ankle and impossible or not, she swears she can feel it through the faux leather of her boot. He takes it off, gentle and reverent, and it’s so much more now, his lips on her skin. Intimate, honey slow and sweet. She’d be embarrassed because okay, feet sweat, no one likes sweaty feet, but he looks too happy for her to want to shake him off and it feels—really, _really_ good.

She had no idea having her ankles nipped and licked and kissed could feel like that.

He’s thwarted moving upwards by her skinny jeans and honest-to-god growls a little as he tries to shove them up to reach her calves, wrinkling his nose at her when she laughs.

“They come off,” she teases, and lifts her hips up, feeling sexy and daring. “Help me out?” Because no one, _no one_ , looks good trying to squirm out of skinny jeans. She gets her top and her bra off and then leans back on her elbows to watch him.

Caine had paused a second, eyes hot on her, but then he peels her jeans off like they’re nothing, hands shaking just the slightest bit. His mouth is hot on her hip bone, on her thigh, her knee. He’s between her legs, hands on her knees, and he licks his lips and says hoarsely, “Can I? Please.”

She had kind of expected him to keep going upwards, mouth up her stomach, her breasts, kiss her again. But he doesn’t. And she’s blindsided by it, by him there between her legs, licking his lips. It sends a hot wet rush through her and his hands tighten, flexing.

“Please,” he repeats thickly, and nuzzles at her thigh, looking up at her like—like he really, really wants to put his mouth on her. He mouths at her panties, licks beneath them at the crease of her thigh like he can’t help himself, and makes a soft, soft sound when her hips move up despite _her_ self.

“You want to?” She can’t help the incredulous rise of her voice. She’s dated, okay, probably some real assholes. She has had really bad taste in men, except for this one incredible exception here between her thighs. No one’s wanted to eat her out as anything but a favor, like it’s a chore or leverage, scrubbing at their mouths afterwards and retreating to brush their teeth.

It put a bad taste in her mouth. She’d stopped asking, or even thinking that it could actually be all that great, anyway. Maybe oral sex was one of those things no one wanted to admit wasn’t as awesome as advertised, she’d figured.

She’s re-evaluating now.

“ _Yes_ ,” he rumbles, and rubs his face over her by now pretty goddamned damp polka-dotted panties. He’s panting, just a little, and closes his eyes when she takes off his adorably dumb hat, scratches her nails in his rumpled hair. His head moves into her hand. She tentatively presses his head down, and feels herself pulse and gets just that slightest bit more wet when he moans and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the fabric. “You smell so—”

I smell, Jupiter thinks, immediately panicked, and takes her hand off his head.

“So good,” he finishes, and presses his face against her, gasping when she bucks up gently against him. “Please, Your Majesty.”

“Well, if you want,” she decides, attempting to sound magnanimous, like she’s the one granting a favor when suddenly all she can think of is how much she wants to feel his mouth on her. “Sure. Yes.”

Caine immediately presses his face against her, panting and licking at her panties, and she can feel the heat of his breathe and his mouth through them, torturously close but not close enough.

“Those—those come off too,” she laughs, rasping, and lifts her hips again. His hands scrabble to pull them down and they only make it to her knees before he’s burying his face in her, moaning.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” she gasps, because that’s almost hotter than his actual mouth, except his actual mouth is _really hot_. Her hands are back in his hair before she realizes it, pushing down as her hips push up. “ _Caine_.” She thinks she hears him rasping her name _into_ her as he noses at her clit, lapping at her like he’s starving. She’s already clenching, shaking a little, coming just slightly, a bit, just from that, and he groans long and low.

“Oh my god,” she says, dazed by how good it feels already, filthy and wet, everything’s so wet. It’s nothing like a quick orgasm in the shower before the water gets cold, a fumble in the back of a car. It’s nothing like that that all. Caine lifts his head to look at her and his mouth, his face is glistening and his eyes are dark, dark as space but not nearly as cold, god, not cold at all.

“I can smell it,” he says hoarsely, sliding two fingers into her easy, smiling and looking as dazed as she feels when she shudders and pushes against them. “When you want me, I can _smell_ it. You drive me _crazy_.”

“Oh,” she says, because that’s... happened a lot of times. Like, a _lot_. She’s torn between embarrassment and really, really digging it. “Good – good to know,” she says finally, and he shudders and somehow moans and glares at the same time, like he knows she’s already planning to use this against him, but then his face is back between her thighs, nosing at the damp curls there and panting feverishly, with open-mouthed wet kisses and a swirling, miraculous tongue, and she can’t think at all.

She loses time for a while, doesn’t worry about anything, her sounds or her smell or her taste, all she can do is feel his fingers in her keeping just the right rhythm, his tongue – god, his _tongue_ , and the scrape of teeth sending her out of her head, she can’t think, can only gasp and clutch at his head, his shoulders, her own coming off the bed as her whole body shakes.

“Caine, Caine, you’re so good, oh god, oh please,” she hears herself, echoing off the bare walls, the ceiling. She has to push him off when it gets too much, too much, and he just kisses bruises onto her thighs until she’s stopped shuddering and then gets his tongue between his fingers, and _oh._

She doesn’t know how much time’s passed, how many times she’s come, when she finally pushes him away, sucking in gulps of air like she’s drowning.

“What about you?” she gets out, and tugs at his shirt. He stares at her, and he’s panting just as badly as she is. He looks like a mess, face slick and mouth red and swollen, hair tufted and twisted from her hands.

“What?” he says, “what, is it not, am I—what do you want, what, I’ll do it, please, _please_.”

“Jesus,” she says, and he lets her pull him up for basically the filthiest kiss of her life. “What do _you_ want?”

“What?” he asks against her mouth, hips pushing against her, and the rough edge of his pants makes her keen a little, grind against him. Fuck, she feels shameless and gloriously liquid against him. She feels so beautiful, right now. He makes her feel like a queen, he’s the only one that actually makes her _feel_ it. Like she’s royalty.

“I want you to feel as good as I do,” she says, and tries to make her hands work well enough to figure out the buckles of his frankly over-complicated pants.

She’s a little startled when he laughs. She’s never heard him laugh. It’s—okay, it sounds a little like a bark, which is funny and awesome and just, it’s so good.

“Jupiter,” he says, smiling hugely at her, unselfconscious and almost goofy. She smiles back reflexively, helplessly. “I already—I, ah.”

“You already what?” Her hands finally get inside his pants, and she finds his cock, slick and, oh. _Oh_. “Oh, wow,” she says.

She thinks—it’s hard to tell, because his face is already so red, especially around his mouth, but she thinks this is Caine Wise blushing.

“You taste really good,” he mumbles, and tries to bury his face in her neck, licking and biting. She lets him for a moment, then pulls him for up for a kiss.

“Good boy,” she says into his mouth, and isn’t entirely surprised to feel his whole body jerk. His cock twitches in her fingers. “Can you come again for me?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, mouth working soundlessly, then he nods.

“Do you want to fuck me?” He stares at her. “I’d really like you to. If you want.”

He nods again, finally, and she rewards him with a kiss and a squeeze that leaves him panting. He’s right, she thinks, licking at his mouth and feeling wanton, and beautiful, and wanted. She does taste good, especially on his tongue.

“Can you take off your shirt?” she asks, and he blinks. “I want to see your wings.”

“Your Majesty,” he rasps, and after a moment of fumbling, manages to stand up. It’s the first time she’s seen him clumsy, and it makes her heart clench. His wings come out, unfurl, blocking out the room, and she loves him, oh fuck, she loves every inch of him, scarred and branded and beautiful.

She reaches out and touches the rough tattoo on his neck. “I want to put my name on you,” she says thoughtlessly, and then feels herself flinch. He’s gone completely, totally still - she hadn’t realized how much his wings moved, feathers settling and shifting, until they stopped. “Sorry, I—sorry. That’s a lot, sorry, oh my god—”

“ _Yes_ ,” he growls, and he falls on top of her, kissing her like she’s air and he can’t breathe. “Please, oh, yes, please. Jupiter, please, _Jupiter_.”

“That’s my name,” she teases breathlessly, delighted and overwhelmed, and tables the tattooing talk for later when they’re both clothed, and coherent, and capable of actual conversation, let alone her processing how badly she suddenly wants it. It’s a little too much, too real, for right now.

Instead she focuses just on kissing back, trying to give as good as she’s getting. He feels amazing under her hands, flexing and tensing. His feathers are soft and strangely delicate. Whenever she strokes them he slow-blinks and shudders; she tries to remember to be careful with them, with him. 

“Hey, do we,” she finally pulls himself away from his mouth to ask. “Do we need a condom?” What with all the crazy space technology, she sort of feels like that kind of archaic birth control has to be redundant now, right? But better safe than space STDs. Or babies.

He just blinks at her dazed, wings fluttering. “A wha—oh. No. We don’t. Unless you—want one, but it’s not required. I can explain the basics of the sterilizing implant technology, if you like, but—”

“Good, because I want you to come in me,” she interrupts, and can’t help but feel smug at the way that shuts him up instantly, his mouth falling open. “Or on me, I want—I want to smell like you.”

He makes a terrible, wonderful, wounded sound, and she wraps her legs around his waist.

“You want that too?” she asks, smiling up at him, feeling brilliant, because he looks _pole-axed_ , like she’s hit him with rebar in the best possible way. He’s trembling over her, barely holding himself up with his arms, his wings doing most of the work. The rush of air over her sweat-damp body feels amazing, and she arches into it, him, and then kisses him, because she can.

She can feel his cock against her stomach, and he’s just as wet as she is. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he says finally, after a long stretch of kisses, sloppy and greedy, all tongue and teeth. 

“I think I’m figuring it out,” she says, and presses her forehead to his and looks in his eyes. “So is that a yes?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, and kisses her again, moaning as he slides in. It’s so easy, she’s still so wet, and swollen, from his mouth. When she tells him how good it feels, how good he’s done, his hips _snap_ and it feels _amazing_.

“God, you’re so good,” she tells him, and he trembles. “Please, harder, I won’t break, Caine, _oh_.”

It’s different, she thinks, when she can think, than it’s ever been before. It’s not physically different, despite his wings above her. It’s his face, and his hands, and the noises he makes, like he can’t help making them. It’s how he feels, how _she_ feels.

“Jupiter,” he says, eyes wide. “Your Majesty.”

“Yours,” she says, honest and raw, and he shudders and leaves bite marks on her shoulder, pricks of perfect pain.

It’s impossible not to come again, and again, especially with him rubbing at her clit and shaking over her, and she tells him, pants in his ear, “Please come, I want it, I want it, I want--”

She’s still in the aftershocks of her own orgasm when he moans and pulls out, and it is so hot, feeling him come on her, with his face twisted up and shocked, almost surprised with it. He’s still sucking in huge gasps of air, his wings beating in time, when she draws a hand through the mess on her stomach and brings it up to her breasts, slick and _god_ , yeah. She could get used to that look on his face. She meets his eyes and smiles, drawing a wet line around one nipple, then shivers and gasps, shocking herself a little with how good that feels.

He comes down, burying his face in her neck and mouthing at it, snuggling into the stickiness between them like it doesn’t bother him at all, and probably it doesn’t. It barely bothers Jupiter, at this point. She squirms experimentally, and yeah. She kind of likes it, even.

“Your Majesty,” he mumbles against her neck, “is going to kill me.” He doesn’t sound unhappy about it.

“Nah,” she says, and kisses his sweaty temple, and grins up at the ceiling. “I’m not done with you yet.”

It’d be a long, long time, longer than any artificial immortality could ever grant, she suspects, before she possibly could be.

*** 

Lessons in politics spanning light years can get really, really fucking overwhelming, especially when they comes with so many terrifying truths and responsibilities. Jupiter, for the sake of her sanity and possibly also the galaxy, has mandated playdates to follow.

Sometimes it’s mid-aerial paintball and self-defense lessons, sometimes it’s baking in the Apini kitchen, the weight of worlds still hanging heavy in the air around them, lightened by the cakes rising, simple and sweet and easy in the oven.

Today?

“I am positive the shoes do not enhance the experience,” Caine says, shaking one foot dubiously in a way that maybe reminds her a little of a cat with tape on its foot.

“It’s an _essential part_ of the experience,” Jupiter reiterates, and also snaps a picture to remember this moment forever, and maybe so she can post side-by-side comparisons with a wet cat later, really get Caine doing that indignant nose-wrinkle/tackle combo. 

She follows up by rolling her first strike of the afternoon, throwing her hands in the air in victory. “Celebration kiss!” she demands, turning to collect her prize.

“He’s not on your team,” Stinger complains, already eyeing the array of round, colorful ball options like he’s facing down another round of Warhammers. “Do the colors mean anything? Why are there three holes when humans have five fingers?”

“Caine’s always on my team,” Jupiter dismisses, and claims her kiss - Caine had immediately turned to give it to her, and is pliant when she pulls him down by the nape of the neck. He breathes out through his nose when she nips his lower lip, then surprises her by kissing her nose.

“Caine! Stop canoodling and help me!”

Jupiter leaves the boys to figure out the wild world of ten-pin bowling balls - they’re already discussing friction, porosity and mass distribution like the generals they are. She kicks up next to Kiza, who has already registered a very respectable spare of her own.

“You two seem happy these days,” Kiza says lightly as the men compare balls with seemingly no awareness of the hilarity entailed. “Our Earth dating advice suit Caine, then? He was just so nervous, you know.”

They’re both watching Stinger winding up for a throw, and Jupiter grins and shoots Kiza a sideways smile.

“Was it you who told him about the three days rule? Where’d _you_ hear about that?”

“Oh, I know my way around human dating conventions,” Kiza says, sharing an amused look with Jupiter as Stinger’s ball leaps over several lanes and lands in a gutter.

“KIZA,” he bellows, and his daughter looks at him all innocence and light.

“What, dad? I’ve got a TV, haven’t I? And I go to school.”

“Well played, Your Majesty,” Caine says, regarding the two of them. There’s the faintest hint of a smug, confident smirk to his mouth. “But I won’t be so easily distracted.”

“Mmm,” Jupiter hums, and lets herself slouch down a bit in the chair, biting at her thumb and thinks about how delicious Caine’s smirk looks right now, and about how fabulous it had felt to have it pressed to her body earlier that morning. If she rubs her thighs together she can feel the bite mark he’d left behind on her inner thigh, bruised tender and aching just right.

The smirk falters.

“Your turn,” Jupiter says, wetting her lips, and looks at him from beneath her eyelashes. She waits until he’s just about to release to really cross her legs, arch her back and sigh slightly, remembering the slick drip of him out of her, the lick of his tongue back into her.

He gets a spare, which Jupiter is also taking as a victory, especially since he stalks back to her, ridiculous shoes and all, afterwards and stands in front of her, hands on his hips. Mine, she thinks, and this is something worth having, and keeping, and fighting for. Fighting with. This is _hers_.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” he says, making a credible attempt at a growl, but his eyes are dancing, especially when she crooks a ridiculous shoe of her own around his leg to tug him closer.

“It’s _definitely_ like that,” Jupiter says, and kisses him until Stinger gets distracted from lecturing his daughter on human males enough to start lecturing Caine on distraction and how a soldier can’t lose focus in battle.

Kiza takes the opportunity to roll a perfect strike, laughing and jumping in the air to high-five Jupiter around Caine. Caine attempts to fight fire with fire during Jupiter’s turn, but _please_. As she says while she sashays back to claim another victory kiss - she’s been exposed to slouching smouldering Caine, like, a billion times already; she’s got a resistance built up.

Meanwhile Caine flubs another turn when she jumps on his back mid-roll and he immediately catches her thighs, dropping the ball into the gutter. She cackles and kisses his cheek, giving Kiza a thumbs up.

There’s so much going on outside this space, this bowling alley, this planet. It’s such a wide universe and this is such a small part of it, but for right here, right now, this moment - she’s so, so happy.

“Your Majesty appears to be winning,” Caine sighs, and tips his head back so that she can reach a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

It’s a long way since their first meeting, their first free-fall, their first kiss. 

“Caine,” she says, and wraps her gaudy bright orange clown shoes around his waist and nuzzles closer, face against his neck. “Pretty sure we both are.”

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD YOU GUYS LOOK AT THE AMAZING ART VILLAINETTE DID IT'S SUCH A PERFECT GORGEOUS THING OMG brb swooning in her arms like a space princess in the arms of her spacewolf
> 
> ETA OMG NOW THERE ARE PODFICS!!! SWOONING INTENSIFIES.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Free Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445952) by [Villainette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Villainette/pseuds/Villainette)
  * [[podfic] all that is earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545249) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)
  * [all that is earth [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566756) by [Opalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalsong/pseuds/Opalsong)




End file.
